


The Unexpected Mission

by Jya



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Allergies, Babysitting, Cats, Humor, Laughing at Fushimi, Silent laugh mode, Yata thinks its hilarious, cat-sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:22:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning to S4, Fushimi is anxious to return to work. The mission that Munakata has in store for him is not at all what he'd expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected Mission

“What do you mean I can’t go?! I’m part of the special forces!” Fushimi insisted.

“Fushimi-kun, it’s only been two days. You need to rest and recover. There will be plenty of missions in the future.” Munakata said calmly. Fushimi knew he’d made up his mind before the conversation even started, but he was annoyed enough to feel the need to voice his displeasure. He was bored and antsy and he just wanted to get back to work.

Munakata placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fushimi-kun, please, don’t push yourself too hard. You deserve some time off after your mission. Your mind is probably one big mess.” He met his captain’s eye and stared back, hard.

He wasn’t wrong. His mind _was_ a mess. After everything that had happened with Munakata, with the Greens, with Misaki, how could it not be? But it wasn’t getting any better just sitting around thinking about it.

“If you so greatly desire a mission, I have a small one for you while we’re gone. It shouldn’t require too much maintenance. But _only_ if you’re 100% up to it.”

“I’ll take it. Whatever it is, I’m 100%.”

The captain’s lips twitched into a slight smirk that made Fushimi instantly realize that he was going to regret whatever he’d just signed up for.

“Complete this mission, and I’ll see about letting you return to work ahead of schedule. But _no_ walking. The doctor said one week on crutches, so one week it will be.”

“Tch,” Fushimi clicked his tongue. Sure it didn’t feel great to walk, but he could do it, and he hated the crutches. They made him feel weak since they were so difficult to use and they chafed his armpits so badly that combined with his lack of upper body strength, they generally kept him off of his feet all together.

“Fine, please give me the details.”

“My sister has left me in charge of her cat while she vacations in America. I thought perhaps you could take over the main living space for the duration of our trip since no one else will be around.”

Fushimi paused momentarily and stared through his brow at Munakata. “You’re kidding me…”

“I’m quite serious. I was going to drop her off at a kennel otherwise, but I think the poor thing would be much less distressed here with you.”

Fushimi thought otherwise.

“That’s my mission? To look after some stupid feline?”

“Now now, I’m sure you and Precious will get along great.”

Fushimi couldn’t find the words to express his distaste, not to mention the ridiculous name of the cat. He simply sighed. “You know I’m allergic to animals, right?”

He was seriously cursing himself for agreeing to this mission before finding out what exactly it entailed.

“Which is why I took the liberty of purchasing several different types of extra strength allergy medication. I’m sure you will find one of them suitable. It’s only for three days after all. You are welcome to enlist the help of… ahem… other comrades if you please.”

He knew Munakata was referring to Misaki. But there was no way he was about to let Misaki see what his current mission comprised of.

“I’ll drop Precious off in common room in about an hour. Unless you have any objections to the mission?”

Fushimi stared back at him, noting the way he spoke the word mission, with a heavy sense of importance attached to each syllable. He was making it clear that should he refuse, he was, in the captain’s eyes, abandoning a mission. Fushimi inwardly cursed his superior for knowing his ins and outs. There was no way he could reject anything entitled a mission. Had it been anyone else, he was certain the captain would simply have asked them to look after his cat, but no, he knew Fushimi too well. He’d always revered Munakata’s intelligence as something to admire, but at the moment, he felt differently. Fushimi had just, after all, seriously risked his life for his last mission. There was no way he could turn this so called ‘mission’ down now, even if he dreaded this one more.

“Alright,” Fushimi said with a sigh.

“I knew I could count on you, Fushimi-kun.”

He wished he could rip that damn satisfied smile off of Munakata’s face.

An hour later on the dot, Fushimi found himself in one of the recliners alone in the main common room, all the doors around it closed. He had settled into the chair with his laptop, his bad leg propped up on the coffee table resting on a pillow, doing some dead end work. He’d become so relaxed he was nearly asleep, and had almost forgot about his upcoming task when he heard a loud knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said, sitting forward in his chair.

The door opened and a small navy kennel entered the room held by Munakata. In his other hand was a white cloth shopping bag that appeared to be packed full.

“I have to go back for the litter box,” Munakata said brightly, placing the kennel down gently.

“Right,” Fushimi forced himself to say. He’d forgotten that particular stinky detail about cats. They came with their own shit boxes. _Stupid animals_ , he thought. _They’re so damn domesticated that they just shit in a box and expect humans to clean up after them_.

“She’s very scared. You may want to give her some time before you try to coax her out of here,” Munakata said. Never had Fushimi seen the captain crouch so low onto the ground before, giving into the will of such a pathetic being as he opened the kennel door. “I’ll be right back.”

As Munakata closed the door behind him, Fushimi leaned forward as much as his body would allow with his leg up in front of him. The kennel was dark, and all he could see was a cheetah print blanket. For all he knew there wasn’t even a cat in there. _Perfect,_ he thought. _No problem_. He returned to the task in front of him.

Munakata returned a couple of minutes later with a pink dome litter box loosely shaped like a castle.

“Wow,” Fushimi said upon seeing it.

“She really is a princess,” Munakata said, smiling. “So this bag has all of her food and dishes in it. I’ll set everything up before I go. She gets fed twice a day, wet food in the morning, dry food in the evening. She also has a drinking fountain.”

Fushimi stared in disbelief as Munakata pulled out a stainless steel fountain from the bag, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He watched over the top of his laptop as the Blue King crawled around on the floor setting up the cat’s belongings before dropping down to the level of the kennel and saying something in the most nonsensical voice Fushimi had ever heard from him. But he knew better than to question the eccentric man.

“Alright, Fushimi-kun, she’s all yours. Just a couple of things, she likes to play with your hands,” he said, showing his scratched up hands and forearms, “and she also likes to chew on cords, so watch your laptop cable.”

_Great_

“Ok,” he said. He’d made his displeasure known enough. He wasn’t about to complain any further.

“Just give her lots of chin scratches and she’ll love you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I’ll see you two in a few.”

“Ok. Bye,” he said.

Fushimi glanced down at the kennel, and seeing no movement he figured he’d just leave the cat to chill out while he got back to work. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. He’d taken the allergy medicine earlier, so the hair wasn’t bothering him, and if the cat was just going to hide out in its cage for a few days, it would be simple. All he had to do was keep the thing alive.

But after a couple of hours of silence, he was beginning to wonder if it was alive… or if there was even a cat in there at all. Finally, the distraction won out, and he dragged himself rather ungracefully off his chair and onto the ground where the kennel was. He glanced inside, but all he saw was a heap of blankets. The thing would have to be tiny to be hiding in there.

He continued to stare into the kennel, wondering if he should attempt to insert his hand. But he knew from a particular childhood experience, one that had determined his dislike for cats, that they didn’t necessarily like being touched while sleeping. And so he continued to stare hopelessly into the kennel.

“Um, hello?” He said, hoping to evoke some sort of response.

Nothing.

“Hellooo?” He said, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He sighed deeply. _This cat is an asshole,_ he thought to himself. He reached over and gently picked up the kennel from the handle.

Yep, definitely more than just a blanket.

As he put the kennel back down, a small orange and white head emerged from the mess of blankets, its eyes wide with fear and its ears back slightly, enough for Fushimi to see that it was afraid rather than aggressive.

“Um, hi there,” he said to the cat.

The cat simply stared back at him, it’s ears slowly propping back up.

“You uh, wanna come out?” He asked it.

When the cat continued to stare back at him while ignoring his comments and questions, he decided he needed a new tactic. He sat up and gripped the top of the kennel once more, and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the floor. The cat looked terrified as she fell out in her heap of blankets, and he got a decent first look at her as she scurried back into the kennel the moment he put it down.

As he’d expected, she was tiny, but her orange and white colouring was actually quite attractive as far as cats went. She had a tiny little body to match her tiny head and her face suggested youthfulness. She must still be a kitten.

He sighed, realizing his plan had failed, but at least she was unraveled from the blanket. He dropped his head back to the level of the cage, and found her curled up protectively staring back at him, her ears flat against her head as she breathed extremely quickly. Did cats always breathe that fast? Hell if he knew.

“Really?” He asked her. “What are you so afraid of?”

Her rapid breathing continued, and he noticed that she was shaking as well.

“Fine,” he said, tossing the blanket back in on top of her. “I give up.” He stood up and moved back into his chair, pulling his laptop back across his lap. “But I tried! If Munakata asks, you tell him I tried!” He insisted, before realizing how insane he must sound, making requests of a cat in an otherwise empty room. He shook his head and returned his attention to his work.

It was another couple of hours before his pride got the best of him once more. He couldn’t deny that having the cat huddle in the back of it’s kennel while terrified made the job easier, but he knew he was more capable as far as any mission, not only this one, was concerned.

He stood up from his chair and limped toward the spot where the kennel sat on the floor. He leaned over, picked up the cage and once more, dumped the contents onto the floor. But this time, he closed the kennel door before the trembling cat could get its bearings and try to bolt back inside. He placed the kennel up on the shelf beside him and stared down at the cat.

“Yeah, now what?” He said in antagonizing tone.

Seeing that its hiding place had disappeared, the cat quickly took inventory of its immediate surroundings and barreled underneath it’s pile of blankets, leaving only its rear end and tail protruding from the mess.

“Touche,” he said to the cat. “Oh well, it’s a step in the right direction.”

He sighed, using the coffee table to support his weight as he lowered himself to the ground next to the cat. The pain wasn’t the most annoying part about this injury. Sure, it ached, but he could take medication for that if needed. The worst part was the stiffness and the fact that if he moved too quickly or at a weird angle he would open the wounds again. So here we was, left feeling like a 75 year old man as he tried to maneuver himself onto the floor, a task that should have been nothing for a normal 20 year old. At least no one was around to see it. Well, no one but the cat, and she currently had her head buried in a blanket. And for the record, she didn’t look so hot herself right now either. At least he could say she wasn’t judging him.

“Cat,” he said to the mass of blankets and fur in front of him, pausing as if waiting for a response. “What are you so afraid of?”

He bravely reached out to touch the cat’s exposed fur, gently caressing it with his fingertips only to have the cat tremble further. He was surprised by how soft she was, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting. That’s why people liked these things right? They were soft and cuddly.

He found he actually liked the way she felt, and he continued stroking her fur as she started to visibly mellow. He waited patiently, petting her until she finally stopped shaking. Then he gently pulled some of the blanket away from her head.

“See? Not so bad, right?” He asked her, making eye contact with her.

He felt a satisfied grin creep across his face when she didn’t immediately try to clamber back under the blankets, and instead lifted her head and sniffed the air around her.

“You good?” He asked her.

She turned her head in his direction, continuing to sniff the air. He offered her his hand, and she quickly cowered, but as he held it there, she sniffed it momentarily, then rubbed her face against his fingers.

“Um, ok?” He said, wondering what she was doing.

And remarkably, she stood up and rubbed her whole body against his hand and began to purr.

“Wow, that didn’t take much. See, you should have come out sooner,” he informed the cat. “Alright, I think you’re fine now.”

Fushimi continued to pet the cat for a couple more minutes before hauling himself off the ground and returning to his chair to resume his work once more.

He was just beginning to relax again, settling into the groove of the monotonous work when he heard something, a kind of rattling, and he looked down.

“Hey! Quit it!” He shouted. The cat was batting his laptop cable around and trying to chew it. “Little shit,” he muttered.

She scampered away from the cord, crouching on the ground across the room. Her back legs were set, and her front paws were straight out in front of her.

“What’s that look for?” He asked as she stared back at him intently.

Obviously, she didn’t respond, she just sat there, her tail twitching.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Just as he turned his attention back to his computer, he heard the sound of claws against the carpet and felt a sharp pain against his foot along with a slight weight.

“What the fuck!” He cried, jostling his computer off his lap and onto the armrest before lunging forward.

Once again the cat scampered across the room, resuming her perched position on the floor.

He glanced down at his foot, feeling grateful that he was wearing socks. The little brat had attacked his foot for no good reason.

“Don’t try that again or you’ll find yourself plastered to the wall,” he said to her. As if he could even kick in his disabled state.

He grabbed his computer with a new sense of determination. He needed to get this project done so he wouldn’t need to think about it anymore. He hated being distracted from a task.

He sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair, trying to come up with the right words to use to describe the outcome of the mission, when the sound of claws reached his ears only a split second before the cat was on the arm of his chair.

“Holy shit! Damn cat!”

She simply sat there, staring at him whilst purring.

“Not so scared anymore, are you?” He asked it.

She turned herself around, rubbing the side of her face against the corner of his computer. She almost looked like she was going to bite it.

“Hey! Stop!” He said, pushing her off the chair and onto the floor.

Within seconds, she was at his laptop cable again.

“OH MY GOD! STOP!” He yelled.

The cat simply sat up and stared at him.

He glared at her, and turned his attention back to the computer.

This time she seemed to get the message, and she remained on the floor licking herself, using her litter box, and just perching herself in a ball on the floor.

He was just putting the finishing touches on his project when she jumped back up onto the arm of his chair. Rather than bothering him though, she simply perched there, watching his hands.

“Touch this computer and you’re back on the floor, little shit,” he said to her.

And she stayed put for a few minutes, until her curiosity finally peaked, and she dive-bombed his hands as they typed away on the keyboard.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” He wailed as she flung onto the ground by some mixture of him throwing her and her desperate attempt to escape. He looked down at his hands to find two large cuts across the back of all four fingers on his right hand as well as a small wound threatening to bleed on the back of his left wrist.

“SERIOUSLY?” He yelled at her. She sat once again on the floor, staring up at him. “What the fuck was that for?!” He demanded.

The cuts quickly began to swell and puff up. He supposed that was the result of being allergic to the damn thing. He glanced around the room, his eyes searching for some kind of tissues or disposable towel of some sort. Of course there was nothing in sight. He groaned to himself, rolling his eyes before retrieving his crutches from their position against the back of his chair. He hoisted himself up and made his way to his conjoining room, careful to shut the door behind him. The last thing he needed was his own room infected with cat hair.

He cleaned out the cuts thoroughly before putting a couple of Band-Aids on the worst parts across his pinky and ring fingers, then splashing water on his face. As he returned to his own bedroom, he changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading back out into the common room.

He closed his bedroom door and made his way back to his seat only to realize the cat was already in it. Not only was she in it, she was sitting on top of his laptop keyboard typing infinite backslashes in the middle of his document. He cursed himself for not saving before he put the thing down.

“Really?” He said to the cat.

She closed her eyes and turned away from him.

“Nope, not happening. Move,” he said, leaning his crutches back against the chair and lifting his computer out from under her, nudging her as he went. She quickly jumped up and hopped down onto the floor. “That’s right, back on the floor,” he said, setting himself back into the chair.

But as soon as he was seated, she jumped back up, this time choosing to make her place in his lap.

“Uhhh, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, still holding his laptop up in the air above the armrest of the chair. The cat just purred and nudged her face against his arm as she curled up in his lap.

“Fine,” he said to her, placing his laptop down on the arm of the chair and setting out to delete all the backslashes.

The cat seemed ok. He wasn’t fond of her constant need to be around him, but she seemed to like him fine and once she settled in, she wasn’t too terribly annoying. She quickly developed a bad habit of attacking anything that moved, including his feet and hands, and he always yelped and scared her away when she did it. He had new cuts to add to the old ones, but overall he would say he could deal with this for another couple of days until the captain returned.

That night he left her out in the common room while he slept, and she meowed a bit in the early hours of the morning, but as he was a relatively heavy sleeper, he just ignored it and she assumingly got bored and went to sleep somewhere.

It wasn’t until about half way through day two that things got weird.

The first thing Fushimi noticed was how vocal the cat was. The loud and constant purring was accompanied by what sounded like whining. He’d heard cats meow-purr before, but not constantly like this one was. She was being overly affectionate, but not the simply cuddling up to him as she’d been doing the previous day. She seemed as though she needed to rub herself on every surface available to her in the room, including every part of Fushimi’s body. Not only was she nudging her head against him like before, but her entire body. And when she got bored of rubbing herself on him or other objects, she would roll around like a noisy maniac on the floor, flipping and writhing everywhere.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” He asked as she spiraled herself all over the floor, then quickly stopped to lick her rear end. “That’s gross. You just cleaned that like five minutes ago!” He said, nudging her gently with his foot.

She meowed and perched herself on the floor, then quickly changed her mind and jumped up onto his chair.

She purred and rubbed herself against him incessantly, digging her claws into his leg.

“Seriously? Cut it out?” He said, shoving her onto the ground.

She purred, not at all offended by the act as though it was an accident, and jumped back up.

“Little shit, usually when someone throws you on the ground it means they don’t want you on them,” he said, shoving her down again.

Once again, she purred and hopped back up, this time perching herself in his lap so her body was pressed against his legs and her rear end was directed at his face. She wagged her tail at him and purred loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, knocking her down again.

She hopped back up again.

“No! Cat!” He said loudly, pushing her down again. He pulled himself up off the chair and brushed the hair out of his lap. He stared down at her, and she stared back up at him, purring loudly. “Something’s wrong with you.”

She meowed loudly at him, as though she was accepting a compliment, then hopped up on his chair and sat down behind him.

“Fine, you sit there, I’m moving over here,” Fushimi said, limping over to the other couch. “Yah, stay there,” he said to her.

But the moment he looked at her and spoke to her, she stood up and hopped across to his couch, crawling up the arm rest onto the back of the couch where she head butted him in the side of the face, knocking his glasses slightly askew.

“Ok, you’re driving me crazy,” He said, pushing her off the back of the couch and onto the floor.

He sighed loudly, leaning back against the couch when a loud scratching noise approached his head and a set of claws sunk into the side of his neck.

“WHAT THE HELL!” He cried loudly. She’d jumped back up onto the back of the couch and grabbed onto his skin rather than the couch. She flinched as he yelled, her ears folding back, but there was only a temporary lapse in purring, and she started again. She hopped down from the top of the couch and onto his lap where she perched again.

“No,” he said, pushing her onto the floor again. “What part of no can’t you understand? I thought it was men who couldn’t take no for an answer.”

At this she raised her back end up in the air again from the ground.

“Get out of here,” he wailed, nudging her with his foot, a bit harder this time.

He was fuming. The cat was driving him insane.

“Can’t you just go back and sleep in a corner somewhere? Don’t cats sleep 23 hours a day?”

She looked up at him and purred in response. She attempted to jump back up, but he caught her in mid air and knocked her down.

“No, not happening.”

She didn’t seem bothered.

“That’s it, I’m not talking to you anymore. Go find something to do.”

But only minutes later, she decided being ignored wasn’t a big deal, and she jumped up on him again.

“That’s it, I’m going for a walk,” he said, standing up and dumping her off him. He glanced down at his crutches, but decided he didn’t care about orders. No one was around to see him breaking rules. It was one thing if it was going to affect someone else, but it wouldn’t bother anyone but him.

He limped heavily on his bad leg, letting himself out of the common room and closing the door behind him. He stood outside the door for a moment, leaning against the wall trying to regain his sanity.

As he stood there listening, he heard a quiet meow escape the room, and he froze. If she didn’t know he was there, would she still meow? He held his breath, listening carefully. But no sound came. He thought maybe if he stayed away for a little while she’d fall asleep somewhere.

But then he heard a different noise, like she was scratching at the door. He looked down at the bottom of the door and saw her tiny orange paw reaching out from under the door as though she was trying to open it.

He sighed heavily and limped away.

~*~*~*~*~

_Fushimi: What are you doing today?_

_Yata: Just helping out around the bar. What’s up?_

_Fushimi: I think I need your help._

_Yata: Are you ok? Do you want me to come over there? Is that even allowed?_

_Fushimi: No one is here. Everyone is gone until Saturday_

_Yata: I’ll be right there._

Fushimi leaned back against his pillow, stretching his arms out beside his head and dropping his phone on the floor.

It was 11:30, and he had been in bed nearly 12 hours. If he had to guess, he figured he’d maybe slept 4. Even now the cat was wailing outside of his bedroom door, every few minutes he would see her claws come under the door, accompanied by sound of claws against wood. He was so annoyed that he was sure his blood pressure was through the roof, not to mention that his shoulders ached from being tensed all night.

This cat was a fucking nightmare. Or rather, he _wished_ she were a nightmare. At least he could wake up from that.

He had resisted the urge to climb out of bed and kick the damn cat, as he knew animal abuse was frowned upon. But the damn cat was lucky he couldn’t walk well. If he could he may not have been able to resist the temptation to retrieve a bucket of water and soak her. He really hadn’t wanted to ask for help. Asking for help with a mission was about as demoralizing as dying during a mission in Fushimi’s mind. But since death was not a likely outcome of this mission, he’d decided that Yata would probably deal better with this particular one. At the very least, he had more patience when it came to small beings that Fushimi did. He knew the kind of reaction he was going to get from his former enemy, but he no longer cared.

He knew Yata wouldn’t be long, especially since Fushimi had failed to specify his problem, so he dragged himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed and dug into his night stand drawers. All of his personal clothes were kept here, since he didn’t own very many of them. His closet was reserved for work clothes and jackets, the much more plentiful items of his wardrobe. He pulled on a clean pair of grey sweatpants, since they were the only loose fitting pants he owned, and elected for a long sleeved shirt, since the stupid cat seemed to like grabbing onto his arms so much. He spread his hands out in front of him, counting the numerous cuts present already.

He stood up, disappointed at the amount of pain still present in his leg, and limped to the bathroom. He’d all but abandoned his crutches, deciding that he was too annoyed with Munakata for leaving him with the cat to care about orders. He knew he was being stubborn, especially since walking still hurt so much, but he figured as long as he didn’t bleed out he didn’t care. It’s not like he was going far anyway. He glared at the bottle of painkillers next to the sink, then decided against taking them. He hated how fuzzy they made him feel, and the pain wasn’t _that_ bad anyway.

Once he’d cleaned himself up and emptied his bladder, he limped back into his bedroom, picked up his phone and found he had three missed calls. Yata had been quicker than he though.

Yata: I’m here

Yata: Answer your phone

Yata: I swear to god if you’re dying…

Yata: Damnit Saruhiko!

Fushimi: Up the stairs, turn right, second hallway on your left, third door on your right.

He heard a knock at the common room door just as he’d emerged from his bedroom.

“Come in, Misaki,” he said. The door opened, and the little orange ball of fluff bolted for it. “Watch for the – cat,” he said, as the cat bolted out into the hallway.

“What the hell!”

“You let it out, go catch it!” Fushimi said.

“Since when do you have a cat?!” Yata wailed, trailing down the hall after the cat.

Fushimi sighed, closing his bedroom door and limping to the other door.

Less than a minute later Yata returned to the door, the cat sitting comfortably in his arms, nuzzling against his chin, a confused look on his face.

“Um, care to explain?” Yata said as Fushimi closed the door behind him, dropping the cat onto the floor. It immediately started meowing up at Fushimi.

Fushimi sneezed violently, realized he’d forgotten to take the allergy medication. “Hang on,” he said, limping back to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He really hadn’t wanted Yata to see how badly he was limping, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting the pills.

“How’s your leg?” Yata asked. He was crouched on the floor stroking the cat when Fushimi returned.

“It’s alright,” he lied.

“Bullshit, you can hardly walk,” Yata said, standing up. The cat whined at him, running around in circles at his feet. At least she was back to regular whining, rather than the low guttural meow she’s been wailing with all night. “Let me guess, you have crutches and painkillers you’re just refusing to use either of them because you’re stubborn as hell.”

“Why bother asking if you already knew?” Fushimi asked obstinately.

Yata looked around the room and spotted the end of the crutches hanging out from behind the couch where Fushimi had left them.

Fushimi had convinced himself that he wasn’t hiding them, he just figured that was the most logical place for them, out of the way. If they’d simply been leaned against the wall, they could fall and hit someone.

Yata just shook his head.

“Can we focus on the problem at hand here,” Fushimi said, sneezing violently again, settling into his usual recliner.

“Fine, what’s the problem?” Yata asked, the cat weaving itself between his legs.

“That!” Fushimi said, as if it should be completely obvious, pointing at the cat.

Yata looked down at his feet, as if he should be seeing something else. He glanced up at Fushimi, then back at the cat. “The cat?” He said, his eyebrows arching so high that Fushimi was sure they were going to stick together to form a permanent unibrow.

“Yes the cat!”

“What, did it break into your room and refuse to leave?” Yata asked.

Fushimi sneezed again, wishing the stupid pills would just kick in already. His eyes were watering now and his nose was starting to run. He would never be able to wrap his head around why people wanted animals living in their houses. All they did was eat and shit and make you sneeze.

“That –“ he sneezed again, “is the mission,” another sneeze, “the Captain left me when they all left for Tokyo.” He sneezed once more.

Yata looked down at the cat again, a smile forming on his lips, then looked up at Fushimi and burst into laughter.

“Fuck you!” He said, sneezing again.

Yata couldn’t stop laughing.

Fushimi couldn’t stop sneezing.

“Shouldn’t you take something for that,” Yata asked, finally calming down, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“I just did. It hasn’t kicked in yet. Are you done?” Fushimi asked.

Yata chuckled a bit more, but finally stopped. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he laughed. “That’s just actually the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.

Fushimi crossed his arms across his chest, and the cat jumped up on the arm of his chair. “Piss of,” he spat, but the cat simply nudged against his face, knocking his glasses awry.

“Seriously!” He wailed, knocking her onto the floor.

Seconds later, she jumped back up, this time nudging against his shoulder. She finally jumped down on her own when Fushimi sneezed loudly again.

Yata was beside himself laughing again.

“Come here,” he said, crouching down and offering his hand to her. “What’s her name?”

“Precious,” Fushimi said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Yata stared back in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding me,” He laughed. “Whose is she?”

“Munakata’s sister’s.”

“This is actually amazing,” Yata laughed. “I’m so glad you called me.”

“You might retract that statement in a couple of hours,” Fushimi said. “She’s driving me crazy.”

“Of course she is. You hate animals. I love them!”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It was regular annoying when it first got here, but last night it like flipped a switch or something.”

“How so?” Yata asked, stroking the cat.

“She was all playful before, attacking my arms and feet, and now she’s just… like that…” Fushimi said. “And she meows and wails and tries to escape and keeps pointing her ass at me.”

Yata watched the cat roll around for a minute, then do just as Fushimi had said. “How old is she?” He asked.

“I have no idea,” Fushimi said.

“Can I use your computer for a minute?”

“Go for it,” Fushimi said, sliding his laptop across the table to him.

“Same password?” Yata asked.

“…Maybe,” Fushimi replied, feeling his cheeks flush. He’d been using the same password since he was a kid, and of course Yata knew it still. His important documents were locked under widespread security codes, but his personal computer still had his old password on it.

Yata smirked at him, and Fushimi watched as he typed in the word Buttonfish517. He’d chosen the password in honor of his favourite fish that had died on May 17th when he was 8. The part he chose not to share was that his dad had actually killed it, he’d claimed by accident. But Fushimi knew his father better than that. Either way, he’d loved that fish, and it was the last pet he’d had.

“I think she’s in heat,” Yata said after a couple of minutes.

“Heat? As in she’s trying to get laid?” Fushimi asked.

“Yep. Look, extra affectionate, raising hindquarters, yowling, erratic behavior… that’s what it sounds like, right?”

Fushimi gestured for Yata to hand the computer back, and when Yata passed it back, he scrolled through the page. It definitely sounded accurate. “Great… how long does this last?” He scrolled further. “7-10 days?! Are you kidding me?!”

As if on cue, the cat jumped back up onto Fushimi’s armrest and rubbed against him, perching herself on the armrest and raised her rear end in his direction.

“Gross! Get out of here!” Fushimi said, shoving her onto the floor.

“It says you need to give them lots of attention. Come here, Precious,” Yata said, patting the ground in front of him. The cat came running to him. Fushimi just glared back at her. Yata was petting her furiously, and the cat still continued to make noise.

At least Fushimi had stopped sneezing. For that he was grateful.

“We should try to keep her distracted. Do you have any toys for her?” Yata asked.

“If there’s nothing in that bag, then no, I don’t.” Fushimi replied.

“Hm, I should probably go out and get some things,” Yata said, getting up and turning the back upside down. “Have you not fed her today?”

“No, she didn’t eat what I gave her last night.” Fushimi said, nodding in the direction of her full food dish.

“Ok. I’m going to run to the pet store. Do you need anything while I’m out?” Yata asked, standing up and pulling his sweater around himself.

“Coffee?”

“Are you telling me you don’t have coffee here?”

“I would have to go all the way down the stairs. You’ve seen how well I can walk,” He complained.

“Fine,” Yata said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

When Yata returned, Fushimi was curled up on the couch watching a documentary about K2 with the volume turned up super loud and a blanket wrapped around his head. He didn’t even hear the door open; he just caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye.

Yata burst into yet another fit of laughter.

“She’s so loud!” He whined.

“Here,” he said, laughing, handing one of the two paper coffee cups he’d been carrying to Fushimi.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the cup and pulling himself into a sitting position, flicking the TV off.

“Aren’t you on pain meds? Should you be mixing caffeine with that?” Yata asked, pulling his shoes off and seating himself on the recliner that Fushimi had made his habitat for the last few days.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, taking a long sip from the cup.

Yata simply sighed. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pulled out a few different toys, two plastic bottles, a bag of catnip and a container of grass. He set the grass down first, and the cat was immediately enthralled.

“I guess she likes it,” Yata said, stroking her back. Fushimi simply glared.

Precious remained distracted for a few minutes, but quickly returned to making noise and rubbing herself all over everything and everyone.

“Let’s try some toys,” Yata said, tossing a mouse across the room for her. Once again she was very interested, but again, it only lasted a few minutes. Fushimi drank the last of his coffee, then scowled at the cat.

“Ok, bringing out the big guns here,” Yata said, picking up the spray bottle. “This is supposed to calm them and keep them quiet in stressful situations. The lady at the store wasn’t sure it would work, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. He read the back of the package, then began spraying random parts of the floor, the chair and the room. Precious was not amused, and quickly ran and hid.

“See? She’s way cooler when she’s scared,” Fushimi said, delighted that the cat had run off.

But about a minute later she was back, chewing on her cat grass again.

“She’s kind of quiet,” Yata commented, legs crossed, sitting on the floor. He wasn’t about to admit it, but Fushimi could tell Yata was growing frustrated with the cat too.

Precious hopped up on the arm of the couch opposite Fushimi, and he stared back at her, eyebrows raised. “What do you want?”

“She just wants your attention. She’s being quiet, just pet her a bit,” Yata encouraged. Fushimi held his hand out to her, and she approached him quietly and cautiously. “Look! She’s all scared and kind of back to normal… right?”

“Yeah, I guess she kind of is,” He said as she rubbed her face against his hand. “I wonder what’s up with her.”

Seconds later, she made a horrible kind of retching noise and puked all over Fushimi’s knee, then jumped onto the floor and resumed her loud purring noises.

“You’ve GOT to be KIDDING ME!” He wailed, throwing his head back.

Yata was in tears, and fallen into silent laugh mode. If Fushimi hadn’t been so angry he’d be worried that Yata had stopped breathing.

“FUCK! Can you shut up and get some paper towel or something!?” Fushimi demanded.

“Oh God,” Yata panted, dragging himself off the ground, “it’s like she’s trying to make you miserable,” he laughed. Yata handed him a box of tissues and Fushimi began the task of wiping his pants off, a sour scowl found its way across his face as he felt the warmth of the cat vomit seep through.

“Gross…” he spat, quickly pulling his pants off and dragging himself to his feet. It was a bit of a struggle, having to put all his weight on his bad leg to pull the other pant leg off, but he did it.

Yata stifled a laugh as Fushimi hurried into his room to find a new pair of pants.

He grit his teeth against the pain in the privacy of his own bedroom, wondering why it seemed to be getting worse rather than better and hoping against hope that he wasn’t coming down with some kind of infection. He pulled on a new pair of sweatpants, then quietly picked up the bottle of painkillers and downed two of them. The last thing he needed was for Yata to know he was in pain.

When he emerged, Yata was lying on the floor; his chin rested on his folded left arm while he pet the cat with his right. He looked tired, but the cat couldn’t get enough attention. He sighed and fell back against the couch, propping his legs up on the table.

“You ok?” Yata mumbled, his energy seemed to have drained.

“Fine,” Fushimi said. He flipped the TV back on and turned his documentary back on, but kept the volume low.

“You hungry?” Yata asked. The cat stood up and walked around him, rubbing herself all over him before perching on the ground, her rear end pointed at him. He simply pushed her over.

“Yeah,” Fushimi said honestly. He could already feel his head clouding over since taking the pills, and he knew he probably should eat, having not eaten anything at all today.

“Do you guys have food here? Or how does it work?” Yata asked.

“There’s usually someone who cooks but everyone’s away so I doubt they’re here. We can use the kitchen, but I usually just get take out.” Fushimi said.

“Sounds about right,” Yata said. “Well, what do you feel like?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fushimi replied.

“How about a giant bowl of vegetables.”

Fushimi just rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of here, do you want to go out?” Yata asked. “We don’t have to go far.”

“Sure,” he replied, liking the idea of getting away from the damn cat. “There’s a pizza place not far.”

“Think you can make it?”

“You can carry me if I can’t,” Fushimi said.

“Bring your damn crutches,” Yata said.

Fushimi groaned. “How about we order delivery.”

“Then you don’t get a break from the cat,” Yata reminded him.

“Right. Ok, where are those vile things?” He asked, staring around the room for his crutches.

In the end, the walk down there wasn’t so bad, and the walk back was even easier. They’d arrived during happy hour and taken advantage for the $4 pint deal, indulging in a few drinks each. By the time they left, Fushimi felt no pain and Yata ended up carrying the crutches back while Fushimi stumbled all the way home.

“Hey cat,” he said loudly, limping into the room and tossing his shoes off before falling dramatically on the couch on which the cat was sitting.

The cat meowed loudly and bolted off the couch just in time, then turned and hissed.

“Yah? Fuck you too,” Fushimi said, giving the cat the finger.

Yata just laughed, climbing onto the small portion of the couch that Fushimi didn’t occupy. “Move over fatty,” Yata complained, pushing Fushimi over.

Just as Fushimi slid over, the cat hopped up between them and began meowing louder than ever.

“Get out of here,” Fushimi said loudly, causing the cats ears to flatten, but she didn’t move. She turned herself around a couple of times, then perched on the couch with her rear end raised.

Yata slapped his palm to his forehead. “I need another drink.”

“What if we gave the cat a drink? Think that would help?”

“Probably not. I think alcohol generally makes people worse. It probably has the same effect on cats.”

“Good point,” Fushimi said. He shoved the cat onto the ground, and she immediately jumped back up, yowling loudly.

“Wow, how can such a small creature make so much noise.”

“I wonder that about you sometimes,” Fushimi said.

Yata smacked him.

The cat continued to wail.

“Ok, we _have_ to do something about this,” Yata said.

“Give me the computer,” Fushimi said.

They did some research, and Yata managed to find a link that they clicked. It explained how if you put pressure on the cats back right next to its tail, it provided relief for a couple of hours. There was a video demonstration and everything on a hairless cat. As the video ended, the two turned to each other in horror.

“No way, no how, not happening. Nope,” Fushimi said.

“Come on, let’s just try it. If it shuts her up it’ll be worth it.”

“I’m not molesting the cat,” Fushimi said, crossing his arms across his chest. “You knock yourself out.”

“What! She’s your problem, not mine,” Yata argued. “How about you try it, I’ll go buy more drinks.”

“ _I_ would rather go buy drinks, even if I can’t walk. And there’s alcohol downstairs. We don’t have to buy anything.”

“What? Your king supplies you with alcohol??” Yata asked, sounding outraged.

“Says the guy from the clan based out of a _bar_!”

“Right.”

“Just try it,” Fushimi said.

“Ugh! Fine! Come here, Precious.” He knelt on the ground, and Fushimi sat up on the couch, leaning forward to watch. The cat gladly ran up to him and perched in front of him.

“It said the side that the tail is bent away from,” Fushimi advised.

“Yah yah,” Yata said, petting the cat, then feeling the cat’s spine, looking for the indentation. “Ugh! I can’t do this!”

“Yes you can! You’ve got this!” Fushimi cheered.

“Ugh,” Yata whined, renewing his attempt. “I think this is it,” he said, and the cat immediately meowed loudly and turned herself around as if to stare at him in horror.

“Think you found it. But I don’t think she likes you,” Fushimi laughed.

“Oh yah? Maybe you should try. Perhaps she’s into the lanky pasty type.”

“Not a chance.”

“Ok ok ok, come here, Precious.” She ran back to him and he felt for the spot, pressing hard and quick this time. The cat growled and squirmed, until finally she gave one last yowl and bolted away from him, dropping to the ground a few feet away.

“Oh my god, I think it worked,” Yata said, kneeling beside the couch as the cat began rubbing herself all over the carpet, rolling around like a maniac, but quietly.

“That’s what the cat did in the video. I think you did it.”

“Holy crap,” Yata said, watching in amazement. “Now where’s that alcohol?”

Fushimi laughed, sitting up from the couch. “I can’t believe you just molested the cat.”

“Shut up,” Yata shot back. “You SO owe me!"

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write humour, but as writing is my outlet for everything, I had to do this...  
> Yes, this happened to me. I adore cats with everything I have, but this thing drove me bat-shit crazy for well over a week (I had her for 3). And that video does exist, and it does work, but not for long. Even better when the owner is texting you from the other side of the planet and she thinks whats happening is hilarious.


End file.
